A Dark Secret Past Part Three

 

            Roger rolled onto his left side to see the clock and realize that it was only seven in the morning, “oh good,” he thought, “I can sleep for another hour because it is Saturday.” Flopping onto his back he stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep and thankfully woke up when the clock struck eight. He slowly sat up, put on his slippers, shuffled into the bathroom to empty his bladder, and staggered down the stairs to find himself some breakfast.

               After finishing his meal, he sat on the step outside the back door and stared into the wild, untamed forest that surrounded his home. “You know, I really should draw up a map and explore every inch of these ten acres,” he thought. “Alright, wash the dishes, get dressed, create the map, and start looking around the property.”

               Slipping outside after changing into his work clothes, he took notes as he walked around the perimeter of his property and as he reached the back northwest corner, he discovered a small cemetery of six graves each with a plaque showing a birthday, the day of death and a full name of the deceased. “Oof, this is not right,” he thought, “alright Roger, take lots of pictures so this is documented before the FBI begins exhuming whoever is buried here, I can only assume that these graves belong to some of the children who formerly lived in the orphanage.”

               He stepped back from the small cemetery took several wide range photos and a photo of each plaque and each gravesite. He then filled in the details on the hand created map he was carrying. Continuing on his way around the perimeter, he found nothing more than wild untamed forest, fallen and decaying trees, wild blackberry bushes, and a long-ago abandoned garden site. “Okay, Roger, get inside and place a phone call to the FBI regarding what you’ve found,” he said out loud.

               After completing his perimeter check, he walked through his front door, took off his shoes, grabbed a beer from the fridge, sat at his kitchen counter, placed his phone call and was connected to one of the agents who had formerly documented the activity in his basement. “Hello, this is Roger,” he said, “after I got up this morning, I made the decision to do a complete walk through of my property and I came across a small cemetery with six gravesites with plaques containing dates and names, you really should send out a team to figure out what happened here.”

               “Very good, thank you for calling, Roger,” the agent said. “Because it is the weekend, we should be able to have team arrive sometime Tuesday afternoon. This is a troubling development we did not expect to receive, we’ll see you on Tuesday.” Roger said goodbye and hung up the phone.

               “Ugh, this is a horrible discovery on my part,” he thought, “after all that was found in the basement, I hoped that this was all completed and I did not expect to uncover more criminal activity. I’ve got almost three full days to wait to have this resolved. I think I’ll spend some time cleaning the house before I go to bed tonight, and I’ll probably search through the basement again.”

               After two hours of cleaning and one hour of basement exploration, Roger sprawled himself out on the living room floor, his mind was a swirl of possibilities about the cause and reason for six gravesites in his woods. “I guess I’ll learn the details after the FBI does their work, I hope that this is not related to any kind of plague or disease,” he thought, “based on what those black and white photos showed, and the history of child trafficking, I can only assume that these children died from abuse.”

               Pulling himself to his feet, he began searching through the freezer and the cupboards to put together dinner for himself. “Man, this really sucks that I eat every meal by myself, I should probably try to make some connections in the community,” he thought, “maybe I’ll start attending a local church, those tend to be good places to meet people.”

               He finished his dinner early, changed into business casual clothing, found his car keys, and drove the distance into town to familiarize himself with the businesses, the churches, and the homes. He paused as he reached the end of his driveway and confirmed that the gate closed before he disappeared from sight. After a thirty-minute drive, he discovered three churches, took note of the addresses and vowed to himself that he would visit one each week to see which contained friendly people, and return to the one that was the highest quality.

               He returned home, punched in his key code to pass through the wrought iron gate, slipped inside and began a thorough online search of the three churches to see their start times. He walked upstairs, changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and sat on his front porch to relax and unwind, enjoying the peace and solitude of the outdoors. Based on the start times that he uncovered, he set his alarm and woke up the next morning to the screeching of the alarm, took a quick shower, dressed appropriately, and drove to the first church.

               He was warmly welcomed as he entered the Methodist church to sit through thirty minutes of a rock band playing ‘worship music’. “Ugh, this is not what I expected a Methodist church to be like,” he grumbled. The music performance ended and a man in jeans and a polo shirt stood in front and delivered a motivational speech. The service ended and Roger spent about fifteen minutes chatting with a few people, giving a few details about his remodeled home, his non-religious past, and his desire to connect with people in the community.

               He said goodbye to the few people with whom he interacted, returned home, and put together a lunch as he was starving after missing breakfast. The next day of work passed by, and a few hours of Tuesday passed by, when he heard the alarm from the front gate sound. “Ah, that must be the FBI,” he said as he hurried to the video feed to see two FBI vehicles, a truck and trailer carrying a small excavator. He then replied and opened the gate for them to enter.

               He greeted them as they pulled up in front of his home, to then direct them to the location of the small cemetery. From his kitchen window, he could see the crew of workers navigating through the forest, giving him a few moments to put together his lunch and hope that they would quickly finish their work and provide an explanation for the existence of the six gravesites.

               He finished eating his lunch and heard a knock on his front door, prompting him to hurry out to be informed that they had completed exhuming the six gravesites and would have details and an explanation for him by the end of the week. “Thank you so much,” Roger said, “I was really disappointed to find such a disturbing scene, I had really hoped that all of this criminal activity had been uncovered and resolved.”

               He watched the two vehicles and the truck and trailer depart down his driveway. “Alright then, Roger,” he said, “I’ll have no answers until at least Friday, that is disappointing.” He finished his week worth of work, made mental plans to visit the second church which was non-denominational, set his alarm so that would have enough time to prepare himself and arrive on time.” His last day of work for the week nearly came to an end when the FBI called him to confirm that yes, the gravesite did belong to six children but they had yet to determine the cause of death.

               Sunday morning arrived much faster than he anticipated, and he sat through another service very similar to the Methodist service. When the sermon was complete, he spent a few minutes interacting with a few people, excused himself and hurried home to put together a lunch. “Well, that was disappointing,” he grumbled, “at this point, I have no desire to return to either one of those churches. There is still the third church to visit, so one more week of work and then hopefully this third church is radically different than the other two.”

               Pulled from his sleep on Sunday morning, he showered, dressed appropriately, drove to the third church and was warmly welcomed by modestly dressed men and women, the women all wore head coverings, and upon entering the sanctuary, he realized that there was nothing upon which to sit. There were numerous candles all throughout the sanctuary, images of people on the walls, and the strong smell of incense, while the leaders of the Church wore long colorful vestments.

               Like everyone else, he stood, watched, and was overwhelmed with joy that this church was radically different than the other two. The service came to an end and several people invited him to stay and enjoy a meal with them. In awe of how friendly everyone was, several tables were loaded with soup, salads, casseroles, desserts and drinks. He spent at least ninety minutes eating and talking with several people, giving the details of his life, his new home, and his hopes for the future.

               When they finished the meal, Roger then shared his feelings and impression of their Church service. “I wanted to share that yours is the third church that I visited and this was a glorious experience, I will certainly be back her next week and hopefully every Sunday thereafter.”

               The head priest then welcomed Roger to return on Wednesday night at six o’clock for their weekly time of teaching. Please feel free to interrupt and ask as many questions as you would like,” he said, “I know that you will find our congregation one of the friendliest group of people anywhere. Will you give me your phone number and physical address? That way we can stay in touch and connected.”

               After six months of consistent attendance, Roger made the decision to be baptized and become a member of this Orthodox Church, thrilled at the kindness and helpfulness of so many of the congregation. The baptismal service ended and the head priest introduced Roger to everyone who was in attendance, to then announce that it would be very important for everyone close to Roger’s age remain and interact so that connections and friendships could be formed.

               After speaking with several people, Roger slipped into a side room, dried off, and dressed in his business casual clothing. As he rejoined the group, three men about his age introduced him to a young lady named Catherine, when Roger saw her, he was in awe of her beauty and elegance. One of the other men pulled Roger to the side and shared that Catherine was unmarried and was greatly desirous of marrying a faithful and godly man.

               Roger and Catherine exchanged phone numbers and after one year of consistent interaction, and multiple dates, Roger took the bold step of buying an engagement ring and asked Catherine to marry him. Catherine dabbed tears from her eyes, gave him an intense hug and said yes. Roger hugged her back with an equal intensity and suggested that they hold a celebration party for their upcoming marriage. “I would like to invite everyone over to my home so we can officially make our declaration, will you help me plan this?”

               “Yes, of course,” Catherine answered.

               Roger and Catherine met with the head priest to discuss the details of their wedding ceremony, and when to invite everyone over to his home to rejoice with them of the upcoming important date. It was decided that the party would be held after ten days, giving the priest the responsibility of sending an email invitation to everyone. Ten days passed, and within thirty minutes of the start time, people began to arrive, prompting Roger to leave the main gate open for ease of entrance.

               An abundance of food was supplied by the older women of the Church, everyone descended into the basement area, followed by great joy and happiness when the announcement was made. Four months from this exact date, the wedding ceremony would be held at the Church and Roger and Catherine would shortly thereafter depart for their honeymoon to Paris, France.

               Ten o’clock came around and Roger watched as the final guests left his home to disappear down the driveway. He closed the gate; he then ordered a mini-home to be delivered as soon as possible and set up upon its arrival. When the mini-home was complete, he made contact with a security company to watch his home while he and Catherine were on their honeymoon.

               With everything in place, Roger and Catherine returned from Paris, France, thanked the security company for their diligent work, closed and locked the mini-home and began dreaming about having children to fill every corner of their home with joy and laughter. Within three months, Catherine announced to Roger that she was pregnant and they could expect their first child to arrive within seven months.

               They immediately began buying everything needed for the care of a child, to watch multiple boxes arrive on their front porch, while one of the empty bedrooms became a nursery. Roger watched as Catherine’s stomach continued to grow larger and larger, prompting him to remind her that she was beautiful and that he could not be any happier that they were able to start a family.

               The following Sunday, Roger watched as the older women in the Church rub Catherine’s stomach with large smiles and words of congratulations. One day before her due date, Roger rushed Catherine to the nearest birth center and excitedly watched his son emerge to receive the name Pavel. By the time that Pavel reached ten months, he began walking and talking, toddling around the church service each week, to be picked up and hugged by numerous people all day.

               Two years passed as Roger and Catherine gave birth to another son named Ivan, then two more years passed as Roger and Catherine gave birth to a daughter named Anastasia. The once quiet and empty Victorian home was now filled with squeals of delight, laughter, and great joy, a new reality that Roger never could have imagined when he first purchased the abandoned orphanage that he would one day convert into a beautiful home.

               Roger kept all of the dark secrets of the former orphanage to himself, knowing that such disturbing stories would sour his wife’s precious heart, not wanting to bring darkness into her soul. The dark stories still tormented his mind and heart, while the sounds of happy children filled every corner of his beautiful home.

               Roger and Catherine lay in bed together with her head resting on his chest, and as he lay there, he knew that it was impossible for him to be any happier than he was at this moment. He began dreaming of the next fifteen years of life at home, as he and Catherine would watch their children grow into responsible and godly teens. With hopefully many grandchildren to eventually arrive when their three children grew into adulthood and marry other godly and responsible young adults.

               Roger was in awe of how radical a change took place within these walls. What was once a place of pain, humiliation, and abuse is now a place of love, safety, and protection with laughter and love filling every room. Waking up after about four hours of sleep, he listened to Catherine gently breathing, thrilled and thoroughly pleased with the incredible improvement his life had taken on over the last several months. Having someone to love, someone to care for, and someone to interact with on a daily basis brought a fullness to his life that he never thought he could enjoy or live.